Tinsel, Christmas, and overly cheery fat guys.

You know what I hate? Being named after a bunch of plastic bullshit. At least Ornament or Candycane sound cool. Tinsel is shitty. Oh, but I really feel bad for Mistletoe. Nah, not really. He gets dates easy.

But you know what’s worse than my name? Watchin’ the fuckin’ kids. I have to go creep around and watch some little kid’s every move. Let me tell you, some things you can never unsee.

“Tinsel! The next order of ornaments is in!” Ugh. Ornaments are the worst. Not only do we have to sort them according to some “theme”, we also have to cover the sixty foot tree with them. Since I’m the tallest elf (three feet five inches) I’m always stuck with tree duty. Candycane dumps a box of ornaments in my arms. “Big man needs these done before noon.” I groan inwardly. It’s eleven.

I dump the box on the floor of my workroom. The theme this year is Christmas animals.

Does this really weird platypus count? Probably. Santa’s weird like that. Who the Hell decided that a glass ball with a knife on it was an animal? I chucked that one in the “Maybe next year” box. Who knows? Santa might go on a crime show binge next year and decide that knives are “in”, like he did this year with Animal Planet. He has live reindeer! That can fly! Why does he need to watch a screen to know everything about them? Oh, right. Because he doesn’t give a shit about them. Taking care of them is an elf’s job.

I did it once. Trust me, it’s even worse than bathroom duty. Ugh, the smell. And the reindeer are bitches. They kick. And it hurts. A lot.

**unfinished**